


Nirvanna The Band The Fanfic

by NicolePascaline



Category: Nirvanna the Band the Show (TV)
Genre: Bad Humor, Band Fic, Best Friends, Bombs, Bromance, Complete, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Male Friendship, Mild Language, Musicians, NTBTS, Some of it Offensive, The Lord of the Rings References, The Rivoli, brief strong language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26868373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicolePascaline/pseuds/NicolePascaline
Summary: Matt and Jay try to get a show at the Rivoli
Relationships: Matt Johnson | Jay McCarrol
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1: The Bomb

"Okay, I'm back," Matt says, shuffling into the living room. It's a cramped space tight with furniture and assorted paraphernalia, including several VHS tapes, strewn tastefully over every flat surface. The upright piano alone houses a deck of cards, a water bottle, the original star wars trilogy, three picture frames, a used bandaid, two records, and a sheet of stamps. The walls are lined with newspaper clippings, band posters, and yellowing photos of two fast friends. Squeezed under Matt's arm is a bag of chips, a half stale package of Oreos, and some Cheezies, as he navigates the treacherous path to the couch.  
Matt, as always, is wearing his wrinkled blazer, battered trilby, and loose jeans cut open to reveal mayonnaise colored shins. This may give the impression that he's fought his way across a wasteland, brave soul, and not just come from his own friendly, if poorly stocked, kitchen. Do not be fooled.  
"Come on Jay, up up up, time to get moving," Matt says. Sprawled on the couch with his long legs taking up half the living room, Jay stirs reluctantly.  
"Huh?"  
"Wake up man, we're not even through Two Towers yet!" Matt says. On the screen, an orc is paused, his mouth frozen open comically. "Scoot, just, yeah, scoot over a bit. Where'd the remote go?"  
"Hey," Jay says. "Can't we take a break?"  
"A break?"  
"Yeah, a break."  
"A break?" Matt says.  
"A little break," Jay says.  
"Like, what do you mean, like a break?" Matt says.  
"Yeah. To go to the bathroom and stuff,"  
"We just took a break, Jay! I was just in the bathroom. Don't tell me you slept through the whole thing. The, the orcs just marched up to Helms Deep and were banging their big, their, weapon things on the ground," Matt stamps his foot. Bang. Bang.  
"I know," Jay says. "And the old guy,"  
"The, that old geezer man with the one eye's like, zip, pulls his bow back,"  
"How do you aim, with one eye do you think?" Jay says.  
"It's, the, there's a kid who no one picks team, with, with one eye. And he can't play sports cause he doesn't have any depth perception,"  
"No depth perception," says Jay.  
"So he grows up to be really mean bitter and wins the lottery, and moves to the Bahamas, with his, his supermodel girlfriend."  
"It's--"  
"Or boyfriend," Matt says.  
"There are guy supermodels too," Jay says. "I'm not judging."  
"A-are you judging?" Matt says. "Cause I'm not judging. Who said anything about judging?"  
"I'm not," Jay says.  
"Why would you say something like 'I'm not judging' if you're, if you're not judging," says Matt. He stares at Jay a moment. "The blind guy, it's like Rudolf the red nose reindeer,"  
Jay stands up and begins to noodle a tune on the piano.  
"Only," Matt says, "Only, he's not getting rewarded for any talent, he didn't contribute anything. He just got lucky. Coulda happened to anyone,"  
"He was more likely to get attacked by a shark," Jay says over his playing.  
"Or a reindeer," says Matt. "With their, pointy antlers and their sharp little hooves,"  
Matt begins kicking out with his hands. "Sharp little hooves."  
"Are those Cheezies?" Jay asks.  
"We're in the middle of the annual Lord of the Rings marathon and you," Matt freezes. His eyes grow wide, and his jaw slackens. "You fell asleep. You fell asleep during the Lord of the Rings marathon."  
"No, I didn't," Jay says, through a mouthful of cheese-covered puffs.  
"You did! You fell asleep during the storming of Helms Deep! How could you? This is, this is like, that's it we have to start all over now."  
"No we don't," Jay says. "It's fine. I was just, my eyes were tired. I was listening to it,"  
"Listening to it?" Matt turns toward the camera, soft features slack from shock and betrayal. "Jay was sleeping during our Lord of the Rings marathon."  
"I didn't sleep well last night, okay?" Jay says, "The neighbors were playing that super loud music and,"  
"It was super loud,"  
"And then the dog wouldn't stop barking and there were those people who were screaming outside,"  
"Yeah, who, screaming?"  
"You didn't hear them?" Jay says. "They were right there,"  
"Right where?"  
"Right outside the window, and they were screaming and the police came with the, flashing lights,"  
"Right there?" Matt says, pushing the curtain aside.  
"They're not there anymore," Jay says.  
"I can see they're not there anymore," Matt says back in a mimicking voice. "Gimme some of those,"  
Jay offers the bag of Cheesies.  
"Besides," Jay says. "I was really was awake the whole time,"  
"Really," Matt says, "You were really awake for the whole thing, huh? So what about the part where Orlando Bloom fricken, he's got the shield and surfs down the stairs, pew, pew, shooting his bow and arrow,"  
"Yeah, cause it's after the part where they blow up the wall."  
"The one ork guy with the,"  
"With the torch," Jay says.  
"That's just a bomb. They just use an actual bomb. Aragon's over here with his, his, little medieval sword he's swinging around and the orcs have fucking explosives. That kinda technology, how'd they lose?"  
"They got into Helms Deep," Jay says.  
"You're right, maybe they just ran out of bombs. They only had three. If they'd just had more explosives this movie, the movie would have a very different ending,"  
"Very different," Jay says, taking back the Cheesies.  
"Wait," Matt says.  
"Wait what?"  
"Shh." Matt says, raising his hand. "Shh shh,"  
Holding his hands up like blinders, Matt shakes his head so the ideas can fall out.  
"What if," Matt says, "Get this,"  
He steps up onto the couch and pulls a dry erase marker from out of nowhere and begins writing on the board.  
"A plan," Jay says, in awe.  
"What if," Matt says, "We blow up the Rivoli!"  
Jay furrows his brow, somewhat less in awe.  
"What?"  
"Kaboom; Ba-boom," Matt stretches his hands apart, badly miming an explosion. "Ka-Pow. And then 'ahh,' those are the little people falling out,"  
"I don't like this," says Jay.  
"Ahhh, see? He's jumping. And this one's being consumed in flames,"  
"Stop," says Jay, "No, this is a terrible plan."  
Matt freezes, mid drawing. "What did you say?"  
"I said it's a terrible plan. We are not blowing up the Rivoli, Matt."  
"But think about it," says Matt. "If we blow up the Rivoli, it'll be all over the news that there was a terrorist attack, right? And all the other bands will be freaked out and won't want to play there! And, and after they cancel their shows, then we come walking up,"  
"Say that, that we're a band," Says Jay, raising an eyebrow.  
"Say that we're a band," says Matt, "And they just start, sucking our dicks! They're like, please, play a show here--"  
"No, no," Jays says.  
"No?"  
"Think about it. If all the bands are too scared to play, then people are going to be too scared to go see a show."  
"No they won't," says Matt, "Cause they're not famous, they don't care if they die."  
"Yes they do," Jay says.  
"You're right, cause famous people have better life insurance. Imagine getting paid to die. Do you think you could make out your life insurance policy to your ghost?" Matt says.  
"What would a ghost need money for?" Jay says.  
"I don't know, what if you're, you're a stuck as a ghost and want to go grab a pogo, what're you gonna do?"  
"I'll just go get a pogo," Jay said, "Also ghosts don't have bodies, right?"  
"You'd steal a pogo?" Matt's jaw drops for a second time. "Mr. Holier than though, Mr. Righteous over here, won't blow up a little building to help out his best friend in the whole world, but he would steal a pogo that he can't even eat."  
"That's not what I said," says Jay. "And, and blowing up the Rivoli is on a totally different level. Like it would actually get us thrown in prison."  
"Do you think I'd be popular if I was stuck in prison?" Matt said. "I'd turn into one of those little, those little cell bunnies or whatever they call them. All the big, muscly guys with tattoos, looking like popeye, showering right up next to me, and I look over my shoulder, all uncomfortable, like this, but he's just like, nods and gives me a little wink. Just a little, cute flirty little wink,"  
Jay blinks at him a moment, watching the attempted seduction.  
"Matt," he says.  
"Jay?" Matt says.  
"We're not blowing anything up."  
"Okay fine," Matt says, "But what if, what if--we fake an explosion?"  
"Fake an explosion?"  
Matts eyes narrow as he glances at the camera, and his lips twist into a cunning grin.  
"We fake an explosion," says Matt.  
"I'm listening. . ." says Jay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, that was a lot of dialogue. I'll break it up with some description in the next chapter, promise. I'm going to try and have this finished by the end of the month, hope you enjoy!  
> If you leave me a comment I'll love you forever <3


	2. Chapter 2

The grey sidewalks of Toronto pass beneath Matt and Jay's feet as they wander down the row of shops. With a shake of his mocha blazer, almost as dark as his hair and eyes, Jay wiggles the sleep out of his arms.  
"We need," Matt says.  
"We need sound equipment," Jay says.  
"Yeah, like,"  
"Like a pair of really nice speakers," Jay says. Matt raises his hands above his head.  
"This big. When we crank them, it should be like, brrrrr," he shakes violently. A woman passing by on the street gives a sideways glance and a wide berth, and Jay gives her a little smile.  
"Then we play the sound of the explosion through them, screaming people," Matt says.  
"Crowd psychology," Jay says. "Everyone runs out of the Rivoli while I keep everyone panicking,"  
"And in the confusion I run into the office," Matt says, "And book us a show!"  
They high five enthusiastically.  
"No evidence to get us in trouble," Jay says.  
"Speakers," Matt says, "Where can we buy big speakers?"  
Jay looks up, lifts his eyebrows roguishly, and raises his finger.  
"Spectacular Sound," Matt reads the sign out loud. "And they've got bars on the windows, a good sign."  
It's a pale brick building, only three stories, with newer, cleaner buildings built into it on each side. A neighboring store's sign shows off a piece of graffiti while a single tree, no thicker than a fist, attempts to add some life to the sidewalk. Above the door, SPECTACULAR SOUND is displayed in Microsoft windows blue. Just beneath it "Professional Audio Since 1981" is typed in pink sans.  
"This is the place, Jay," Matt says, pushing the door open. "This is what I'm talking about!"  
He poses dramatically near the door, next to a pair of speakers balanced on their subwoofers, towering over him.  
"Look at all these buttons," Jay says, going to the wall of soundboards.  
"It's for sound mixing, right?"  
"This is awesome," Jay says, getting wide eyes. He flashes a wide smile. "This is awesome."  
Tearing himself away from a set of shiny nobs and dial, Matt looks up with a wild face.   
"No, Jay! We can't get distracted. We came here for something,"  
"Speakers," Jay says.  
"Huge speakers," Matt says. With an air of purpose and confidence, as well as thinly veiled desperation, Matt strolls up to the front desk. It's a glass case full of brightly boxed doodads, behind which a young man is reading a magazine. "Hi, I'm Matt, this is Jay, we're looking to buy some speakers. Really huge speakers,"  
"Speakers?" the man says.  
"We're in a band, actually," Matt says, "Nirvanna the Band, and we're looking for some really, like powerful sound equipment. You got any of that here, blow your socks off noise?"  
"Uh," the man says, "Sure, well, we've got these over here,"  
"They need to be loud," Jay says.  
"They need to be, VERY loud," Matt says.  
"I, yeah, sure, so these," the man starts.  
"I don't think you understand," Matt says, "These need to be earthquake level noises,"  
"These are pretty powerful," the man says, hesitantly.  
"Not powerful enough," Matt says.  
"You, I," the man pauses. "How close are you going to be to these speakers? Because these could probably cause your eardrums to explode,"  
"Explode?" Matt says, excitedly.  
"I'm going to be very close to them," Jay says, less excitedly.  
"Maybe you want, do you want a subwoofer? Is that what you're looking for?"  
"A subwoofer? Yes!" Matt says. "Base boost the sound of falling rubble,"  
The man gives him a side glance and leads him to the back of the store. "Well, we've got--"  
Jay leans down near Matt's ear. "Did you see the price on these things?"  
"The price of progress," Matt says.  
"Where're we gonna get that type of money?"  
"I--Sorry, can you repeat that?" Matt says to the shopkeeper. "My friend here was rudely talking over you."  
"Yeah, uh, sure. I was just saying the cords on these are a little short, so you might want to get an extension cable,"  
"Chords?" Jays says.  
"To plug them in?" the man says, eyeing the pair with suspicion.  
Matt and Jay exchange a glance.  
"We're just going to need to chat among ourselves for a minute," Matt says, pushing Jay outside.  
"Where are we going to plug these in at the Rivoli?" Jay whispers franticly.  
"We can just, sneak in there with the power chord," Matt says.  
"No we can't, we need the speakers to sneak in," Jay says, stepping further away onto the sidewalk.  
"Sorry, excuse us," Matt yells at a person walking by, before huddling back down. "We'll bring a battery,"   
"I don't think the plans going to work, Matt," Jay says.  
"What do you mean the plans not going to work?" Matt says, "The plans got to work, the, oh, very cool dude!"  
Thumping loudly, a car so low it's nearly dragging along the ground slows to a stop behind the bus which is also stopping outside the store. Matt begins speaking again.  
"What?" says Jay.  
Matt's mouth starts moving again.  
"I can't hear you," says Jay. He points to his mouth and his ears, and Matt squints back in confusion. The air brakes on the bus wheeze and it starts moving again, but Jay's eyes grow wide.  
"Wait a minute," he says.  
"What?" Matt yells. "I can't hear anything you're saying over the--"  
"Exactly!" Yells Jay.  
"Huh?" Yells Matt. Jay points at the car, driving up the street.  
"Speakers," he says. Matt looks at him, then at the car, then back at Jay.  
"Wait!" Matt screams, running up the street, arms flailing in the air. "Stop, stop that car!"  
Jay's close behind, but the camera shakes as Jared tries to keep up with the sprint. By the time everything has calmed down, Matt is talking, only half breathless, with the car's occupants, a couple of young people with brightly colored hair and distressed clothes.  
"This is your car? That's awesome," Matt said, "I'm Matt, this is Jay, we're in a band,"  
"You're a band?" The girl says incredulously. Jay nods.  
"We were wondering," Jay says  
"Could you do us an enormous favor? If we give you a CD," Matt starts patting his pockets, "We have a CD somewhere, do you think you could park. . .Okay, so there's a place called the Rivoli, on Queen street--how loud's this thing?"  
"Like what, the sound system?" the guy says.  
"Yeah, pretty loud right?" Matt says.  
"Could you," Jay pulls a CD out of his jacket, "Could you park an play this for like, fifteen minutes?"  
The girl takes the CD hesitantly.  
"We can pay you," Matt says, "I've got what, a twenty on me,"  
Jay goes through his pockets, "Thirty,"  
"Fifty bucks?" the kid says. "Yeah man,"  
"You'll do it?" Matt says.  
"Yeah man, you just want us to,"  
"Just go park, uh, I'll show you," Matt says. "Guys, you're awesome. Thank you guys so much,"  
"We're doing this now?" Jay says.  
"Uh, yeah sure, now," the kid says. "Why not?"  
Matt claps.  
"Okay, cool. Perfect. We're doing this," He grinned and looked at Jay. "We're really doing this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me a bit longer than expected, but better late than never! Chapter three is in the works.


	3. Chapter 3

On Queen Street, tucked into an old fashioned brick building lies the Rivoli. Outside, umbrellas spread over guests who are gathered like ducklings around small tables where waitstaff carry drinks and brunches. Next door is an empty lot, a construction site with a white wall blocking it off from the sidewalk. Posters hang, proudly displaying the modern building that will soon be erected. But behind the wall, hidden from view, Jay paces the ground while talking on the phone.  
"Yeah," Jay says to Matt over the phone, "We're in the construction site. There was a chainlink fence between it and the alley, but they picked the gate's padlock pretty easily, so now we're parked right up against the Rivoli."  
Matt is outside the front of the Rivoli, hiding behind a shrubby tree and a pair of sunglasses, despite the cloudy day. With a glance over his shoulder to keep tabs on the waitstaff, Matt crouches for action.  
"Okay Bird," Matt says, "I'm ready."  
As he smears dirt on his face and neck, Jay studies the small white wall separating him from Matt, and the storage container office parked on the site. No doubt the ground is littered with nails and staples and all sorts of nasty things. Things had the potential to go badly, no doubt about it. Very badly. But on the other side of that fence is the most ingenious man he knows. No matter what happens, Matt's going to get them through. Jay gives the thumbs up to the people in the parked car and runs toward the fence as the speaker's deafening sound blasts the construction sight.  
Everything seems to move in slow motion. Sand is kicked up cinematically as he runs, Jay raising his hands over his ears to stave off the noise of the faux-plosion. And when the Wilhelm scream rings out he jumps, hands latching onto the top of the wall.  
"Ahhhggg!" he screams. "It's a bomb, getaway, ahhhggg!"  
  
Matt is poised like a cat, waiting for his moment. As soon as the car's speakers begin blaring he runs around in front of the Rivoli like a confused cow, yelling in his most panicked voice. At first, people freeze, or turn around, trying to figure out what's happening, but when Jay's wild, dirt smeared face came over the wall they begin moving.  
"A bomb!" Matt repeats loudly. "Everybody get away, everyone get away from the Rivoli!"  
People start fleeing now, the stream of bodies growing faster as confusion and, yes, even a sprinkle of panic begins to take hold while stock audio screams with too much bass in them blare in the background. Pushing employees and customers alike aside, Matt forces his way inside.  
"Outside, everyone get outside," he yells, moving back into the staff only area. Ahead was the kitchen and upstairs, it must be the office. With a furtive glance from side to side, he leaps up the stairs. The stairway doubled back on itself and at the top stands a door, a sliver of light showing through where it is cracked open. Matt glances back down the stairwell, takes a deep breath, and pushes the door open.  
The office is small and windowless but softly lit and best of all--empty. Matt grabs his knees in relief and immediately gets back to shuffling through the desk, leaving the doorway open to watch the stairwell.  
"This is just marketing stuff, and spreadsheets," Matt says. He drops the stack back on the desk in frustration. Even the almost overflowing wastepaper basket doesn't have anything of interest inside, just receipts and printed emails. Matt's eyes fall to the computer monitor. With a quick look at the door, he shakes the mouse, waking the screen up.  
"Yes!" Matt says, a devious smile making its way across his face. "Not even locked, they did leave in a hurry. Okay, so we just have to, wait. . ."  
He looks at the messy papers a moment. In his mind's eye, he remembers something. Jay, sitting in the living room, his voice lower and slower in the flashback. The world seems oddly colorless.  
"T h e y w e r e b e I n g l o u d," Jay says. The camera zooms in as he points to where the neighbors had partied the night before.  
"T h e y w e r e s c r e a m i n g a n d t h e p o l i c e c a m e,"  
"N o e v i d e n c e t o g e t u s i n t r o u b l e,"   
Matt snaps out of it and looks at the camera. "Fingerprints,"  
Holding the papers gingerly between his finger and thumb, Matt stands up and looks around frantically. "These have my fingerprints all over them, we can't have any evidence that we were here or,"  
As his hand brushes his pocket, Matt pauses. A smile crosses his lips and he bounces his eyebrows, as he pulls a red plastic lighter from his pocket. With a flick, the papers are being licked with flame and Matt returns the lighter smugly.  
"See, just follow the plan and everything will--Woah!"  
The papers are burning much more enthusiastically than anticipated, the fire already creeping up toward his fingers. In an attempt to put them out he fans the air, causing flames to leap up toward his hands.  
"Fuck," he says, and hastily drops them in the wire wastepaper basket next to the desk.  
"All taken care of," Matt says, sitting back down at the computer. "Now let's see, where do they book bands here. . .Ah-ha, a spreadsheet. I just have to. . . Jared, do you smell smoke?"  
The camera zooms in on the wastepaper basket, which is throwing flames up the side of the desk now. With a squeal, Matt kicks it away from the computer desk, sending burning paper across the wooden floor and strewing it between him and the stairs.  
"Oh no," Matt says. "Okay. Okay, stay calm, uh, I'll just,"  
He glances at the computer and looks around the room again. The room has one other small door, but when he opens it, Matt realizes it's not an escape but small a cleaning closet, and likely an unused one at that, only for backup supplies. A trash can with a couple of mops and brooms in it takes up most of the space, with the trash can's round lid propped between it and the wall. The small shelves are crammed with jugs and spray bottles full of colorful liquid. Grabbing a large, dark jug, Matt struggles to get the lid off and tear the seal. A yellow sticker on the front cheerfully states: "Lysol Concentrate."  
"Just douse it and--"  
Poof. A ball of fire consumed the room. Matt is lucky to hold onto his pale eyebrows. He has not been able to keep hold of the bottle of cleaner, however, which flies across the room and down the stair, spilling as it goes. Now from the doorway to the landing was one burning splatter of flames and fumes, the windowless brick walls suddenly making the office seem very small indeed.  
As Matt backs against the desk, his phone begins ringing.  
"Yes?" he says.  
"Where are you?" Jay says. "Did you make it out? Emergency vehicles are starting to show up,"  
Matt swallows. Now that Jay's mentioned it, he can hear the sirens outside. Police sirens.  
"I-uh, I'm getting out right now," Matt says. He glances at the flames growing on the stairs and jumps over the desk. Pounding on the keyboard, he finishes booking Nirvanna the Band a show. Next Saturday night. It's going to be perfect, just him and Jay and the crowd cheering them on.  
"Bird?" he says, the phone pinned between his head and shoulder.  
"Yeah?"  
"I need you to keep holding them off for me," Matt says. Jay looks up the street. The firetruck is less than a block away now, and a group of bystanders is moving toward the Rivoli.  
"How long do you need?" Jay says. Matt's eyes narrow.  
"As long as you can give me," Matt says.  
Just save the document and find a way out, Matt thinks, we're so close.  
Jay's going to be so proud.  
There's a whirr from somewhere overhead, and a whistle, before something cold and wet hits his face.  
"What the--" Matt says, wiping the water from his eyes and choking. The smoke must have finally set off the sprinkler system, he thinks. Then a "zap" zips through the room, turning his heart to lead.  
A thinner, sharper smell of burning came from the monitor in front of him, now blank and irresponsive as droplets run down its surface.  
"No, no this can't be happening," Matt says, fiddling with the cords.  
"What can't be happening?" Jay says. "Get out of there Matt, I've got to go."  
Click.  
The water plasters Matts bangs to his forehead, soaking into his clothes. The fire in the doorway is somewhat quenched, but the stairs are still burning brightly, casting an orange glow into the dim office. Below the noise of people storming the door grows louder. Matt looks down at his phone, the screen splattered with water droplets.   
Call ended, it says. Below is a picture of Jay, hunched over his piano, blissfully unaware he's being photographed. Water continues to drip down Matts face and fall from his chin, but he stares at the photo until the screen goes dark. With a sigh, Matt stands up a little straighter, steeling himself for the end.


	4. Chapter 4

Jay steps in front of the Rivoli door, holding his hands up. A crowd is forming around the opening, pushing to get in and taking videos with their cell phones.  
"You can't go in there," Jay says.  
"But there are still people in there," a bystander says. The first responders run up and push Jay aside, one grabbing him by the shoulders to move him out of the way.  
"I'm going to need you to move out of the way here," The firefighter says, "There's a fire and we need to evacuate the area."  
"Fire?" Jay says. He looks over his shoulder, "But there shouldn't be, not actually, we--"  
The faint smell of smoke lingers in the air.  
"Matt's in there," Jay says, "My friend's still in there,"  
He steps away from the building and covers his mouth with his hands.

Matt emerges from the cleaning closet holding the trash can lid and takes a deep breath. This throws him into a coughing fit, smoke thickening the room's atmosphere. When he recovers, Matt positions himself at the top of the stairs and looks over his shoulder at the camera.  
"These stairs look a lot steeper from up here," he says.   
But his eyes are watering and noises are coming from downstairs. Half slipping on the wet floor, the sprinklers still raining down on him, Matt balances inside the trash can lid. He shifts his weight, tipping the edge over the stairs.  
Thwathunk thwathunk thwathunk. In slow motion he bobs up and down, the lid crashing into each stair below, whishing over the flames and picking up speed until it reaches the stairwell and propels him face first into the wall. Half tripping down the last of the stairway he falls into a group of firemen who usher him outside.  
A towel is thrown around his shoulders and Matt is shivering, his clothes soaked through and nose half bloodied from ramming into the wall at high speed. Pulling his towel tighter, he looks at the ground and tries to keep his lip from trembling as bad as the rest of him.  
"Matt, Matt!" Jay yells, running over. Matt sees him and looks back to the sidewalk. What's he supposed to say? The plan failed. He failed his best friend. Matt's almost knocked off balance as Jay wraps him in a tight hug.  
"You're okay," Jay says, "I was so worried about you,"  
For one brief moment, perhaps the first time in his life, Matt can't find any words to say.  
"The computer," Matt says, "The plan didn't work, the show,"  
"Show?" Jay says. "I thought you were going to die in a fire,"  
"I-I was," Matt says, "The stairs were all on fire,"  
"So you were trapped?" Jay says.  
"Yeah, and I slid down on the trashcan lid," Matt says, acting out thunking down each stair.  
"No way," Jay says, "That's so cool,"  
"Yeah, it kinda was," Matt says, reliving the experience. In his memory, he doesn't crash into the wall, and the flames rise around him in a very badass kind of way without singing his clothes.  
"You need to warm up," Jay says, "Let's grab some pogos at the gas station on our way home, and then you can change out of these wet clothes,"  
Matt beams a smile and explains just how amazing his escape was, as they walk quickly down the sidewalk, throwing backward glances to make sure the first responders aren't following as they disappear into the streets of Toronto, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! My very first fanfiction finally finished, how exciting ~  
> Comments make me happy nwn


End file.
